


Waking

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Series: Poly Simon [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Art, Clary and simon are siblings fight me, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Glitter, Hi its almost 2 help, I got the idea of simon waking up covered in glitter and..., M/M, The magnus and simon relationship is expended on in something I'll post tomorrow, blood mention, this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: Simon Lewis wakes up in various states some mornings.





	

Sometimes he wakes up covered in glitter.

It's rare- most of the time he's in his own bed and Alec will shower in between bed switches.

Sometimes, though, he'll wake up with something tickling his nose, or shining in the light that floods through the window. It's usually contact glitter from Jace or Alec. Sometimes it comes from the glitter laying about the house. Sometimes, it comes from him cuddled up on Magnus as the Warlock sings soft lullabies in languages long forgotten.

Sometimes he wakes up covered in ichor and blood.

It isn't his, and he didn't cause it- he can tell from the dull ache of his gums and the burn on his stomach.

It's usually from one of the Lightwoods, from when they come back from missions and lay down without showering.

He gets it- fighting demons must be hard work. But when he wakes up and smells the rotten, stale stench of demon blood and the sweet tang of Izzy's blood, or the low growl of Alec's blood, or the soft burn of Jace's blood know his skin, he curses them to heaven and back.

It sucks. He feeds as rarely as possible, since he hates the taste of blood, hates how good it makes him feel, hates what it does to him. On those nights, those mornings, he'll drain several entire bags by himself, fighting the hunger buried in his stomach, so deep that it's become a part of him.

Sometimes he wakes up covered in charcoal and watercolors and oil pastels.

Those are the mornings when he wakes up next to Clary, her sketchbook discarded on the table as she curls into herself. She's just as covered as he is, streaks of black and color racing across her fair skin.

Those are the nights when they stay up late, watching movies and TV shows, the nights when she listens to him info dump about Captain America or Cyclops or Luke Skywalker or Buffy or any number of characters.

Those are the nights that he feels normal, like he isn't a monster, a scorch mark on the face of the Earth, something terrible that needs to drain his boyfriend's blood to be able to walk during the daylight. Those nights, he feels like they're 15 again, not worrying about demons or vampires or conflicting date schedules. It's when he remembers that yes, Clary is his sister, the person he grew up with, the girl-no, the woman- who has come so far and done so much.

Sometimes he wakes up alone. Those are the worst mornings. Thankfully, they're few and far between. He loves everyone in that house, even if it isn't romantically. They're his family.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm restingwitxhface on Tumblr! Come bug me! My poly shadowhunters blog is highbrooklyn-ofwarlock.


End file.
